


Diamond Life

by spookyawards_archivist



Category: The X-Files
Genre: F/M, Medium Length
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2003-09-14
Updated: 2003-09-14
Packaged: 2019-04-27 06:03:49
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 6,187
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14419209
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/spookyawards_archivist/pseuds/spookyawards_archivist
Summary: Ever wonder where Scully got those diamond studs? An older agent gives Mulder some advice.





	Diamond Life

**Author's Note:**

> Note from alice ttlg, the archivist: this story was originally archived at [Spooky Awards](http://fanlore.org/wiki/Spooky_Awards), and was moved to the AO3 as part of the Open Doors project in 2018. I tried to reach out to all creators about the move and posted announcements, but may not have reached everyone. If you are the creator and would like to claim this work, please contact me using the e-mail address on [SpookyAwards' collection profile](http://archiveofourown.org/collections/spookyawards/profile).

 

Diamond Life

## Diamond Life

### by FoxProse

**TITLE: DIAMOND LIFE**  
**AUTHOR: FOXPROSE**  
**RATING: NC-17**  
WARNING: Descriptive sex. Smut warning. **CATEGORY: MSR**  
**KEYWORDS: ANGST/MULDER POV**  
DISCLAIMER: Enough problems with real people in my life, let alone fictional characters. They belong to Chris Carter, Ten Thirteen Productions and Fox Broadcasting.  
FEEDBACK: Please! Send to SPOILERS: Small ones for How the Ghosts Stole Christmas and FTF  
SUMMARY: Ever wonder where Scully got those diamond studs? An older agent gives Mulder some advice. 

AUTHOR'S NOTES: Background information on FBI policies, culture, and jargon in the late 1990s is derived from Special Agent by Candice DeLong. 

Thanks to Vivian, for removing her jaw from the floor and suggesting her own favorite antics. 

Thanks to Donnilee for providing incredible beta and encouragement! 

**XXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXX**  
**FBI HEADQUARTERS**  
**WASHINGTON, DC**  
**TUESDAY, 8:30 AM**

The light blue Post-It note stuck to the receiver of Fox Mulder's phone was an exercise in brevity: 'NCAVC Educational Task Force Meeting, Tues 10 AM. Conf Rm C-1704. Mandatory!' Dana Scully hadn't arrived yet, but her presence could be discerned in the crisp, nononsense penmanship and dark-blue felt-tip ink of her missive to her partner. 

Mulder's eyes darted around the office, searching for an excuse to skip this meeting. Perhaps his help was needed on a maybe-X-File in some remote field office! He sat down purposefully at his desk to check his email. No such luck. His e-mail contained the usual assortment of spam, including multiple offers to purchase Viagra at a discount. It also contained a reminder about the meeting from the head of the task force, so there went the idea of pretending Scully's message had been lost. It hadn't been such a great idea anyway. Scully had told him about the meeting yesterday. The note was just insurance. 

Mulder made a tremendous show of trying to avoid the inevitable committees and task forces that accompanied assignment to the FBI's DC headquarters, but had he been completely truthful, he would have admitted that he didn't really mind being placed at the occasional beck and call of the Criminal Investigative Division. The folks handling violent crime investigations still associated him with his reputation as a gifted profiler, and his subsequent digression into paranormal phenomena caused less snickering. After all, these agents were plenty familiar with monsters of one kind or another. 

The phone rang and Mulder jumped slightly, his concentration on the computer monitor broken. 

"Mulder, it's me," Scully announced. "I'm in the lab with Dean taking a look at the residue we found on the body from New Mexico. I just wanted to make sure you didn't forget your 10 o'clock meeting." 

"Would I forget something so critical to the future of mankind as a meeting of the Special Educational Task Force of the National Center for the Analysis of Violent Crime?" Mulder snorted. 

"I know how much you hate these things. But try to look at it as an opportunity to advance the X-Files a little. You could actually have an impact on how field offices think about unusual cases," she responded in a placating voice. 

"Yeah, okay. Fine," he said sullenly. 

"Mulder...," Scully made her final pitch. "Please just play nicely? Okay?" 

He smiled in spite of himself. The 'good girl' in Scully was never far from the surface. "Don't worry, Scully. It's O.K. Really. I'll behave," he promised sincerely. 

**XXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXX**  
**FBI HEADQUARTERS**  
**CONFERENCE ROOM C-1704**  
**WASHINGTON, DC**  
**TUESDAY, 10 AM**

Mulder entered the open door of Conference Room C- 1704\. He sat down, joining five other agents who sat around the walnut table, the legacy of a previous director's furniture buying spree. 

They were deeply involved in a conversation regarding the availability of a product called 'Miracle Gro,' and whether it could be had more cheaply at Wal-Mart or Home Depot. Everyone nodded politely as he took a seat and placed his pad of paper and pen on the table, but what had been a free-wheeling debate just a minute ago came to a grinding halt. 

"Hey, Mulder! How's it going?" one of the agents, who had been a heated proponent of Home Depot, spoke up. 

"Can't complain. Yourself?" Mulder replied pleasantly. 

When he was younger, it was pretty cool to be a young, single, good-looking guy with an interesting, even glamorous job in law enforcement. Even boring assignments featured a measure of partying for those so inclined, attracting 'badge bimbos' as well as smart girls from good colleges working in DC for a year or two before settling down. 

However, Mulder had noticed a change sometime in his thirties. Married agents no longer looked at him with 'atta boy' envy. His observational skills were honed well enough that he could, in fact, detect pity when they regarded him. It was as if they all knew the reality; Spooky still went home each evening to an empty apartment, ate processed food for dinner, and spent the night alone surfing the web. It didn't matter where Miracle-Gro was on sale; there was nothing growing in Fox Mulder's life. 

Two more agents entered hurriedly and found seats. It was now 10:08 AM and the leader, Roger Davison, was nowhere in sight. Small talk was exchanged, and Mulder even found a way to add a self-deprecating joke. "They brought me in to help teach the field offices how to tell the difference between real aliens and Star Trek fans." Everyone laughed and offered theories on why they had been 'volunteered' for this group. 

At 10:22 AM, Special Agent Roger Davison finally arrived. Agent Davison had 'command bearing' as they say in the military. A black man nearing 50, he had been a college football player. He retained the confidence of the gridiron and had a deep baritone voice that defied suspects or even agents under his supervision to get on his bad side. Mulder had worked with Davison a few times during his profiling days; he found him fair and ethical, never putting politics or career above solving the case. 

"Gentlemen, please accept my apologies for starting late," Davison began as he entered the room. He prepared to distribute a sheaf of papers he'd brought in a manila envelope. He paused suddenly, his eyes on one young agent at the table, and put the papers down. He took a small black box from his jacket pocket, then removed the jacket and slung it over the back of his chair. He sat down and rolled up the sleeves of his button-down shirt. 

"I usually don't get personal like this," he began tentatively. "But I've been with the bureau almost twenty years now - I'll be retiring next year - and I've earned the right to give you boys some advice." 

The agents sat transfixed, partly by Davison's departure from their expectations and partly by curiosity concerning the contents of the black box. 

"I don't think I need to tell you what working on these cases can do to you. You've all heard the lectures about stress and burnout." Davison, though never unconfident, quickly lost any hesitation as he warmed to the subject. "But you need to keep on top of what this job does to your family. You know about the divorce rates for our line of work." 

Several agents seemed lost in thought. Mulder sat quietly, wondering what was coming next. 

"Today is my twenty-fifth wedding anniversary, and I just came from picking this up," he said, opening the box. "Two carats," he announced with a hint of pride as a gold pendant set with a glittering diamond came into view. 

Several agents clapped and whistled, and everyone smiled. "Congratulations! That's great!" "Hey! That's great, Roger!" "Congrats!" The responses came at once, drowning each other out. Davison waved his hand slightly for quiet and snapped the box shut. 

"Thanks, guys. But that's not why I bring this up. My point is this: your fellow agents may be the ones saving your ass on a stakeout or undercover, but it's your wife and family who save your ass in life." Davison leaned forward slightly in his seat as he spoke and his voice seemed to fill the room though he barely spoke above a whisper. "And you need to show some appreciation, because they shouldn't have to put up with the job we do. And don't wait twenty-five years to do it! I got lucky. My wife must feel sorry for my pitiful ass. But I've seen too many of us lose sight of what's important in our lives because of this damned job." 

Davison's speech was greeted by complicit silence. The young agent, probably just past his 16 weeks at Quantico, looked stricken. 

Sensing the need to lighten the mood, Davison turned to Mulder. He smiled and used a lighter tone of voice, "Of course, then we've got Spooky Mulder here, whose ass is in a sling so often that he can't keep up in the appreciation department with his partner, let alone a wife." 

The agents laughed, including Mulder, and the somber mood was broken. Mulder was silently grateful to Davison for finding a way to include him, to make him one of the guys, even for a brief moment. 

"All right. Let's get to work on how we're going to teach the old dogs working in some of these field offices a few new tricks." 

**XXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXX**  
**FBI HEADQUARTERS**  
**WASHINGTON, DC**  
**TUESDAY, NOON**

The office was deserted, but Mulder's message light was blinking when he returned. He punched in the codes to retrieve his voice mail. 

"April 23 at 11:41," the programmed female voice announced. 

"Mulder, it's me," came Scully's familiar voice. "Go ahead and get lunch without me. I got stuck with an autopsy this afternoon, so I'll grab something to eat on my way." 

Mulder felt a momentary pang of disappointment. He hadn't been consciously looking forward to lunch with Scully, but he felt curiously uneasy after Agent Davison's comments. Talking with Scully over lunch about the meeting would have quieted the odd, unidentified anxiety he felt. 

He left the building, walking away from Pennsylvania Avenue toward the Convention Center, with the thought of picking up a submarine sandwich at one of the storefronts catering to a combination of tourists, conventioneers, and those who slaved away in the Federal Triangle. The day was warm and breezy, one of the first true spring-like days. He remembered a small, independent sandwich shop that usually wasn't too mobbed and made a bee-line toward it. He ate a turkey sub and drank a bottle of water at a small plastic table erected on the sidewalk by the proprietor, tossing the wrapper and empty bottle into a large garbage container after he finished. 

There was no pressing need to return to the office quickly, so Mulder strolled an extra block or two through the side streets, window-shopping and woolgathering. He found himself reflecting on Roger   
Davison, on what it must have been like for a black man to join the FBI in the late 1970s. The Bureau had been famously inhospitable to minorities, women, Jews, or anyone who didn't fit the 'mold' developed in the 1930s by ol' J. Edgar himself. 

Mulder remembered that Davison had once mentioned working as a police officer while attending law school at night. His bio listed a series of assignments at one backwater field office after another, with each promotion leading him a step closer to headquarters. Davison's wife was a nurse or something like that, and Mulder thought he recalled a few kids, probably old enough to be in college now, racking up tuition bills. Two carats' worth of appreciation had taken some surreptitious saving and finagling on Davison's part. Appreciation - that was what the man said. That's what it was all about. 

Without intending to do so, Mulder found himself ringing the buzzer and being admitted to a small jewelry store decorated in subtle tans and beiges. He sank into the deep carpeting. This place was designed for well-heeled visitors or highly paid members of the private sector who fed at the government trough. It was certainly not intended to meet the jewelry needs of federal employees. A pretty young woman emerged from the back as he entered the store. 

"Good afternoon. Is there anything I can help you with today?" she purred. She was wearing a bodyhugging knit dress and an expensive-looking brass name badge that said 'Amanda.' 

"Um, no...I don't know. I'm not really looking for anything..." Mulder stammered. 

"That's perfectly all right. Take your time and look around. We don't mind browsers at all. Sometimes you need a while to think before you make a jewelry purchase," Amanda continued. She gave off the calming aura of a nurse or a kindergarten teacher, someone accustomed to dealing with nervous newcomers. 

She kept talking, making eye contact with Mulder and smiling, "You know, we just got something in yesterday I'd like to show you...," she opened a locked case and pulled out a tray of jewel-encrusted bangle bracelets. 

The image that popped unbidden into Mulder's mind was of Scully trying to stretch latex gloves over a clunky bracelet, and he immediately protested, "No, I don't think so. It would be hard for her to wear something like that at work." 

"Oh? What does she do?" 

"She's a doctor, a pathologist. She has to work in labs and with tissue samples. I don't think a bracelet would be a good idea." 

"Does she wear earrings?" 

Mulder paused for a second, checking her image in his memory. "Yeah. She does. She wears little white earrings. Pearls or something." 

"Well, then she'd love a pair of diamond studs. They're a classic! They're appropriate for any occasion and she can wear them from work into the evening. 

What? This little sales pitch was going way too far. He had entered the store on a whim. He wasn't planning to buy a present for Scully ... or for anybody! He started to protest, but Amanda just waved off his objections. 

"Of course you're just looking today," she said. "You're not buying anything just yet." And before he knew what hit him, Mulder was viewing a wide assortment of diamond earrings and was being coached in the sizes, cuts, colors, and other vagaries associated with diamond jewelry. A few more prompts from Amanda, and he was chatting volubly about Scully, bragging about her investigative skills, her beauty, and even her marksmanship. 

"She sounds like an incredible person. You're so lucky to have found her," she said in awe. Mulder was vaguely aware that he had lost control of this situation, that this woman probably sighed in admiration of twenty deserving jewelry recipients a day. He started to try to explain that he and Scully were not romantically involved, but his thoughts drifted to Roger Davison: appreciation. 

Before he knew it, he was examining a pair of earrings that Amanda told him were perfect for a professional woman. She was swiping his credit card, and he was turned back into Washington's busy lunchtime streets bearing a snazzy miniature shopping bag containing a small black box. 

**XXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXX**  
**FBI HEADQUARTERS**  
**WASHINGTON, DC**  
**TUESDAY, 4 PM**

Mulder's head had cleared by the time he reached the office and his first inclination was to make a 180- degree turn and go back to the jewelry shop to return the earrings. What on earth had he been thinking? No wonder they could afford sink-to-your-ankles carpeting; Amanda, or whatever her name was, was like a Siren, luring the lovesick or guilty to make impulse purchases. It was embarrassing, actually. He was a psychologist, a crack FBI profiler. Yet apparently he was impotent in the face of a highly honed sales pitch! He thought ruefully that he was lucky he hadn't wandered into a condominium time-share office. 

But while it was true he had succumbed to an impulse purchase, he wanted more than anything to give this present to Scully. Oh sure, he'd been fantasizing about her since the day she walked in the door, had fallen in love with her, and even more amazingly, had admitted this fact to himself. Regardless of whether Scully ever reciprocated his feelings, he wanted to show her how much he appreciated what she brought to his life. He would have to find a way to give her this gift without making her uncomfortable. 

**XXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXX**  
**FOX MULDER'S APARTMENT**  
**FRIDAY NIGHT**  
**2 WEEKS LATER**

Dana Scully sat cross-legged on the floor, examining dog-eared receipts and placing them in neat piles. The coffee table in front of her was covered with a half-eaten pizza and half-finished bottles of imported beer. Fox Mulder sat on the couch across from her, editing the final report on a case file. This, in Mulder's opinion, was the very best way to do paperwork: pizza, beer, casual clothes, a little TV if there was something good on, and they'd be done in no time. It wasn't a real date but it was the next best thing. Mulder relished these times spent with Scully. He had become adept at finding reasons why reports and case files couldn't be finished during the workday. Scully never appeared unhappy with this arrangement and Mulder wondered if perhaps she looked forward to these times, too. 

The diamond earrings, however, had not made it to Scully's ears or even to her jewelry box. Mulder had spent the past two weeks moving them from location to location, never finding the perfect time or place to give them to her. He had quickly ditched the bag and carried the box in his jacket pocket to and from the office each day. Each day he told himself that an opportunity would present itself, but each day the earrings returned home to Virginia. Maybe the office wasn't the right setting. Maybe he should give them to her in the evening or on a weekend. But they had spent several evenings together, and he was no closer to finding a way of presenting them. 

"I think we're done," Scully sighed in relief while she stapled the piles of receipts to their respective forms with a bit more force than was truly necessary. 

"O.K. Give me a minute and I'll be finished," Mulder responded. 

She took another slice of pizza, picked up the remote control, and clicked idly with one hand while eating her pizza with the other. "You never told me about that education task force you're on," she mentioned. 

"Not much to say," he mumbled distractedly. "We're supposed to come up with ways to improve communication with field offices and get them to update their techniques and procedures." 

"Oh, good luck," she said sarcastically. "The good agents don't need to be told, and the RIP agents won't listen anyway." Agents with reputations as 'RIP,' or 'retired in place' were avoided not only by Mulder and Scully, but by any agent with an ounce of integrity and work ethic. At best, they were useless, and at worst, they could get you killed. 

Mulder continued to make penciled corrections on the report while Scully chatted. "Isn't Roger Davison in charge?" She paused to take a drink. "I heard from one of the lab techs that he just celebrated his twenty-fifth wedding anniversary. She said he got his wife this incredible necklace with two- or three-carat diamond." 

"Yeah. I saw it. He showed it to us at the meeting. I think he'd just picked it up or something." He finished his corrections and slipped the stapled papers back into the file folder. 

Scully made no more comments, distracted by something she had found on TV. Thinking about Roger Davison made Mulder think about the earrings, and that reignited a queasy feeling. Mulder decided to take this opening, and damn the consequences. 

"One of the things Roger talked about at that meeting was showing appreciation to the people in our lives. I guess his wife's really stood behind him all these years, and he wanted to let her know how grateful he was," he said as he crossed to his desk, removing the small black box from under a pile of papers. "It made me think a lot about showing appreciation in my own life." 

Although Scully was listening, he didn't have her full attention. He crossed over and flicked the off switch on the TV manually. "Scully, what I'm trying to say is that I know you could have chosen a million times to leave, to give up. But no matter what happens, no matter how things turn out, I want you to know how much I appreciate your being part of my life. Your honesty, your knowledge, and your faith in the X-Files \- it's made me a better person. Thank you." He handed her the box. Whew! This was way more emotion than he felt comfortable discussing! He hoped he hadn't gone too far, tipping his hand about the more intense feelings he harbored for his partner. 

"What is this, Mulder?" she asked, confusion in her eyes. 

"Just open it," he urged. 

Scully opened the box. Her eyes grew large and her jaw dropped. "Mulder, these are stunning! They're beautiful. But you don't have to buy me a present," she breathed. 

"I know, but I wanted to. If you don't like them, we could exchange them," he responded hopefully 

"No. It's not that. I love them, but I could never accept a gift like this from you." She put the box gently on the coffee table. 

"Why not? I want you to have them," he tried hard to keep his voice even, to keep from sounding hurt. 

Scully paused, gathering her thoughts. Although they were usually comfortable with silences between them, this one felt to Mulder like a weight pressing down on his lungs, forcing him to concentrate on each breath. 

She inhaled deeply and began. "I'm not trying to inflate your ego here, but I don't need to tell you that you're a very, very attractive man. I don't just mean physically; I mean the entire package. You're smart, handsome, fun to be with ..." 

"Right. That's why women are constantly throwing themselves at me," he interrupted her sarcastically. 

"They do constantly throw themselves at you. Should I name names? And that doesn't count all the women you don't even seem to notice. But that's not my point. My point is that I'm not deaf or blind. I notice you, too. But when I started to work with you on the XFiles, I made a decision not to let myself get too attracted to you. A gift like this, well, it blurs the lines. It makes me think of you in ways that are too dangerous." 

"What are you talking about? Are you saying you're attracted to me romantically or physically or whatever?" Conversations like this always confused him. 

Scully smirked but didn't meet his eyes. "Does that surprise you? Look, don't get me wrong. I'm not trying to make you uncomfortable. I know that your interests lie elsewhere. I'm just trying to explain why I can't accept this gift. Diamond earrings are... intimate. They're not like a book or a box of candy." 

"I thought that what we have is a little deeper than books and candy," he spat out. "And what do you mean you know my 'interests lie elsewhere'?" 

"Don't make me spell this out, Mulder," she sighed. "People can be attracted to a coworker without it going any further. I can admit that I'm attracted to you even though I realize you'd never be interested in me in that way in a million years," she finished with almost unnoticeable sadness. Scully uncrossed her legs, stood up, and moved to sit on the couch 

"So you're saying you would accept these earrings from a lover, but not from your partner?" 

"I know it doesn't seem logical to you, but yes." 

Mulder's first reaction had been hurt. But she'd given him new information, information that raised his hopes for the first time in a long time. She thought he was attractive! He sat next to Scully on the couch and composed his next sentence. 

"You're probably right. Maybe this is the kind of gift that should come from a lover. But I don't think I can get a refund for the earrings, so maybe we should just change the relationship instead." Mulder smiled and registered the look of shock on Scully's face as he leaned in to kiss her. 

He had expected her to resist. But after her initial shock, Scully seemed to welcome his kiss, returning it enthusiastically, and meeting his tongue in an increasingly frenetic dance. 

He pulled away and cupped her face in his palms. "Scully, what you said about my not wanting you that way? You're so wrong! You're so, so wrong! The reason I don't notice other women is because I'm always thinking about you. Always wishing I could tell you how I feel. Always wondering if you'd ever feel the same way..." 

She let out a breath somewhere between a moan and a whimper. He attacked her lips once again, then trailed his tongue down her throat and to the back of her neck. She arched toward him as he kissed her, her breasts pressing against him. Her arms circled his neck and she brought his lips back to her own. She turned slightly and moved to straddle him, pressing her hips against his. 

Mulder was in shock. Never in his wildest dreams - well, maybe in some of them - did he anticipate such a sequence of events. He had just hoped to give her the earrings without making her angry with him or sorry for him. If Mulder's mind was in shock, his body was doing just fine on autopilot. He registered a little embarrassment as he felt himself respond to Scully's hips, now grinding against him. He felt a panicky sensation. Did she want him to make love to her? How far should he push her? He slid his hands under her sweater, stroking her back and feeling the curve of her waist. 

In response, Scully pulled the sweater over her head, displaying a navy satin bra that could have fueled his fantasies for years. Their eyes met, and she smiled while reaching behind her back and to unclasp the bra. She removed it, revealing beautiful lush breasts with nipples hardened in arousal. Mulder was, to be honest, a bit surprised. Tamped down under her suit jackets, her breasts appeared in proportion to her body, but not spectacular. He never regarded himself as a breast man, anyway. But the soft, rounded globes that bounced gently in front of his face as she moved her hips were incredibly full and shapely. They were an incredible bonus to any heterosexual man and would have been a cause for aesthetic admiration from anybody else! 

"Scully, I don't want to push you, but you gotta let me know if you want to call it quits here," he said raggedly, trying to look her in the eyes rather than the chest. 

"Mulder, " she said, smiling and enunciating clearly, "I'm sitting on your lap with my shirt off ..." 

"Yeah, but I don't want you to feel pressured ..." 

"Well, the FBI prohibits moonlighting, even as lapdancers, so I'd say you're pretty safe in assuming that I'm here because I want to be, because I want you," she finished. 

"Bedroom?" he invited, tentatively. 

"Thought you'd never ask," she responded in a husky voice that he'd never really heard but had frequently imagined. 

Mulder positioned her legs tightly around his waist and eased to a standing position. Her weight was easy to manage, but she'd better not expect this trick regularly, he thought. His knees were a lot less eager than his cock. The bed wasn't exactly made, but thank God he had one of those comforters that never really looked unmade, either. He carried her into the bedroom and set her down on the bed with what he hoped was a flourish. She unzipped her jeans and wiggled her hips to help release them. 

Mulder gasped, his breath momentarily taken away by the scene in front of him. Scully's hair was spread beneath her head and her breasts were still rocking slightly from the motion. She was wearing navy lace panties, cut low on the hip and with longer legs than typical - almost like shorts. He could see a spot of dampness and could smell the almost indiscernible scent of her desire. She hooked her thumbs at the hips of her panties and paused. 

"Yes?" she teased, waiting for confirmation. 

"Oh, yesss!" he hissed in response. 

She slid them down her legs and kicked them to the floor. Of course, he found her beautiful. What surprised him was how different her beauty seemed today. Instead of the sleek, powerful beauty she displayed at work, Scully without clothes was softer, more womanly. Her body no longer seemed to have straight planes, only contours and curves. 

He leaned over and kissed the dark auburn curls between her legs, purposely working in circles toward the very center fold that would mark her most sensitive spot. Mulder had always suspected that he wasn't terribly talented at this skill, and he had always avoided it when possible. However, the little noises Scully was making and the way her nipples tightened visibly made him rethink his earlier aversion, and he began stroking her with his tongue, gently pulling back her flesh to expose the engorged core. 

Suddenly, their leisurely tempo changed. She began thrusting her hips more purposefully, her legs spreading further apart, and her sounds becoming less coherent and more demanding. He used a finger to penetrate her, his tongue still working, and then slid a second finger inside her, earning him the sound of breathy little whimpers. The sounds stopped suddenly as her back arched, and he looked up in time to see her nipples contract to pebbles as he felt her spasms grip his fingers. He remained stationary as her body relaxed and her breathing returned to normal. 

"Thank you," he said softly, bowing his head slightly as he withdrew his fingers from her. 

"I think I'm the one that's supposed say that," she laughed nervously. 

"No. I mean it. Thank you for letting me touch you like that. You're so beautiful. I never thought I'd have the chance," he said, his voice hesitant and uncharacteristically humble. 

Scully turned on her side and eyed him appraisingly. "Mulder, you're overdressed for this party." She slid off the bed and slowly unbuttoned his shirt, tossed it to the floor alongside her panties, and pulled his tshirt over his head. She pressed her body against his and took a nipple in her mouth. She sucked, then bit gently, and he wondered how she knew that this, of all possible actions, would bring his arousal to a peak. 

Feeling the increased pressure and slight movement of his hips, she unzipped his jeans and dragged them along with his boxers to his knees. He stepped out of the tangle of clothes and lowered himself into the bed. She leaned over and took him in her mouth. This was heaven, absolute heaven, and he watched in disbelief as her head moved over his groin. How many nights had he spent on his couch dreaming of this scenario? But this wasn't what he wanted right now. 

"Not this time," he said roughly, pulling her up to face him. "Want to be inside you. Want to make you mine." He thought hazily that perhaps he shouldn't have said that. Was it too possessive or misogynistic? If Scully thought so, she didn't react, except to slide on top of him so that her still-damp folds seemed to envelop the length of his cock. 

She reached between them and guided him inside her. Mulder let out a moan as she began to move. She was so tight. He hoped that meant that it had been a long time for her. It had been a long time for him, too, and he wasn't sure how long he would last at the present rate, particularly if he kept watching her breasts bounce rhythmically as she rode him. 

Mulder held onto her waist and used his upper body strength to turn them over. Scully was now under him, her legs wrapped around his waist. He was still embedded deep within her as he began to control the speed, picking up the pace as she lifted her hips to meet each thrust. 

"Scully, I love you. Love you so damned much, " his words came out in a torrent. 

"I love you, too, Mulder..." 

He was panting now, losing his battle for selfcontrol. "Wanted to tell you ... for so long," his voice became ragged. "So close. Can't wait. Need you so bad, Scully." 

"Yeah? Come for me, baby. Fuck me harder! Let me see you lose control," she coaxed him in this new husky voice. 

That did it. Was it hearing her call him 'baby'? Was it hearing the word 'fuck' emerge from her mouth? Was it the image of her lying beneath him, demanding his sexual performance? Whatever the exact catalyst, her words triggered a climax that sent his entire body into almost violent spasms as his hands grasped her shoulders and each shudder added to the wetness between her legs. 

He was afraid of crushing her with his weight, so he rolled to one side as their breathing slowed. 

"You really think I'm attractive?" he asked quizzically, propping himself on an elbow. 

Scully reached for a pillow to put under her head. She heard the teasing in his voice and smiled, getting into the spirit of this game. "Yeah, I'd say you're pretty attractive." 

"Before you said I was very, very attractive. Two 'verys,'" he pretended to pout. 

"Well, maybe I exaggerated a little," she mused, "but definitely one 'very.'" 

His finger traced her ears and the small pearl studs she was wearing. "Now you have to put on the earrings I got you," he said. "And you have to wear them all the time. Amanda said they were perfect for any occasion" 

"Who on earth is Amanda?" 

"The lady who sold them to me. She said they were perfect for work or evening." 

"Well, they are perfect for work. As far as evening goes ... my evenings will need to be more exciting than they've been recently if I'm going to justify wearing diamond earrings." 

"You mean more haunted house trips?" 

"That is not what I mean, Mulder," she rolled her eyes. 

"I guess I'll have to provide some other form of entertainment, then," he countered as he traced her jaw with light kisses. 

**XXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXX**  
**FBI HEADQUARTERS**  
**WASHINGTON, DC**  
**FOLLOWING TUESDAY, 9:30 AM**

Mulder clattered into the office, running late. Scully looked up from the file she was reading. 

"Good morning," she greeted him. 

"If you say so," he grumbled. "Scully, what would you think of moving the X-Files to somewhere without rush hour? Maybe the Memphis office would take us in. How bad can traffic be in Memphis? And we'd be on the scene to investigate Elvis sightings!" 

Scully put down the file and, predictably, rolled her eyes at this idea. 

"Or how about Springfield, Illinois? We'd save hours commuting! We could box all these babies up and have them shipped out to the heartland," he gestured at the file cabinets grandly. 

"First of all," she answered, "I'm not going anywhere with corn. The last time you got me in a cornfield I had to run for my life and ended up in storage in Antarctica. So you can forget Springfield. And second of all, even if we started packing right now, we wouldn't be gone in time for you to miss your task force meeting in half an hour. So we might as well stay." She picked up her file, but not before shooting an indulgent smile at Mulder. 

"Okay, okay! Just let me check my e-mail first." 

He settled down at his computer for a few minutes before interrupting her. "Get a load of this, Scully! There've been reports of unusual mortality among squirrels within a perfect one-mile radius in an eastern Alabama state park." 

"The squirrels will wait, Mulder. Go to your meeting. I don't know why you're complaining and stalling so much. You don't mind it nearly as much as you let on." 

Mulder had no quick retort, so he got to his feet, put on his jacket, and rummaged around for a pad of paper and pencil. 

"Besides," she added coyly. "I'm sure you'll be amply rewarded later for working so hard on such a boring assignment." She purposefully tucked her hair on one side behind her ear, turning her head so that the diamond stud glittered in the light. 

"On my way - don't want to be late," he announced cheerily. He strode from the office in a show of mock purpose and motivation. Scully laughed, pursing her lips in a barely discernible kiss before he rounded the corner to the elevator. 

**THE END**   
  


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